


Mister supermech

by Steena



Series: Transformers song inspired fics [6]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Ass fucking with bottle, Degradation, Drinking, Drug Abuse, Fisting, Hurt, Implied anal knotting, Implied fucking helicopter with his own rotors, Kinks, Loneliness, Object Insertion, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 12:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21271034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena
Summary: Ironhide was the one who got the credit for ending the war. It brought him to a superstar status. Everybody wants to be with the superstar. Or at least with his image. Inside, he's falling apart, because nobody cares beyond his reputation, beyond the reach of the spotlight. With increasing problems with substance abuse, he tries to push them to their limits, to turn them off, with increasingly depraved suggestions. But mechs can do very freaky things to get their fifteen minutes of shame with a superstar.Heavy reading.Inspired by Marilyn Manson's song Mister superstar.





	Mister supermech

**Author's Note:**

> Ironhide asks for a whole lot of kinky games, but they're not very graphically portrayed as the fic revolves around his inside struggles.

_They remind him of the flies on Earth._

Not that flies were that interested in Cybertronians, so he'd never been pestered by them himself, but the _analogy_ worked. He often feels dead inside, and lo and behold, they flock to him. Like flies to a carcass. Swat one, ten new comes a-buzzin'.

"Ye know, I always admired ye the most. I mean, Prime is Prime an' all, but you... Ye really were the one I looked up te. Even before ye were the one who brought us the victory in the war. I jus' knew ye were the best." Crosshairs drawls, a twinkle in his optics.

The Sniper presses up against him, digits teasing his cannon. Ironhide downs the half of his drink that is left and waves at the waiter to get him another one, inwardly rolling his optics.

"I'm a Sniper, ye know, I know my guns, an' this is such a fine piece o' weaponry. _Nobody_ can ever appreciate a piece like this the way _I_ can." Crosshairs' voice is a sultry purr.

Ironhide grabs his new drink and drinks half of it in one go. _"Appreciate_ it... Would you ride it right here? Would you open your panel, and straddle my arm, and rub that sloppy pussy of yours against it until you overload?"

"Absolutely, Sir! I'll do anythin' ye want. _Anythin'_."

_Ugh. They're all the same. Disgusting, needy little sluts who just wants to be able to brag that they landed a war hero, willing to degrade themselves indefinitely, and do just about anything for their fifteen minutes with him._

"I've already had that, it's nothing new. I'm into knotting right now. Care to help me out with that?" He challenges.

"I love bein' knotted."

"I want to knot your ass."

"I-I... of course."

_Fucking disgusting little bitch. As if he wouldn't see it for what it is._

"I have the locking mod on my spike. I'll knot the rim to your port as usual, but the lock on the head will latch onto your waste gate and force it open, and I'll fill your oil pan to the brim. Usually cause leakage. You'll be oiling your panel for days, and dripping my cum." _It isn't true, it's really not his thing, so in reality he only has the regular knot, but it's interesting to see how far they'll go. If Crosshairs will degrade himself like that just to score._

The Sniper looks hesitant for long moments before he answers.

"I... I can do tha'. For you only." His smirk returns, laced with lascivious intentions. "Wanna go somewhere else fer this, Sir?"

_Of course he'd do it._

"Here's fine. Bend over the table."

*****

"Hello." Ratchet purrs, sidling up to him the second he steps into the medbay. "I saw the footage of you and Drift. You really are into some of the more adventurous stuff. I'm surprised you managed to get Drift to go along with it."

_Of course the fucking ex-Con would spread his legs like that, even knowing that he was recording it. It was kind of fun, though. Would be even more fun to see Megatron's face-plates when he saw his former favorite pet general happily going along with an ATM. Maybe he could get Starscream to do it too? Either way, it's kind of obvious that Drift has been a whore. Once a whore, always a whore, and nothing more. Like they all are, for their fifteen minutes of shame with him. _

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here because I have an itch. Superficial rust on my spike."

"Oh, the infamous beast needs a scratching. Of course I'll oblige. Did you know that valve lubricant might help with the itching?" Ratchet asks, and judging by his field, he'd happily help out. _If his panel sliding to the side isn't enough of a sign._

"Isn't this contagious?" _They're all so fucking gross, so desperate for a piece of what they think he is, a piece without substance ot meaning. A piece that's not really him._

"It'll be fine. I'm a medic, I can treat myself afterwards."

*****

"I never thought a virtuous Autobot would ever fall to this level of depravity."

Ironhide rolls his optics, and then he empties the entire drink.

_How the fuck did Vortex of all mechs find him?_

"I mean, I've seen the footage you spread of the glitches you fuck, and mech... color me green with envy, I'm impressed!"

_Of course..._

"And that's what brought me here. Now, I'm not much of a bottom myself — well, obviously not — but for you? Mech, I respect someone who fall so far, someone who embrace their own depravity."

"You got a point with this, rotor-bub?"

"Please allow me to worship you. I'll do anything you want, I'm your humble servant, oh glorious embodiment of Unicron."

_For fucks sake._

"Ever been fucked with your own rotors?"

The only answer is an incoherent mewl.

*****

Ironhide pulls his servo out of Jolt's valve, wiping his servo on the Racer's face-plates before he shoves him off the table. Jolt tumbles to the floor, landing on his back. Ironhide stares down at him, lip-plates curling into a disgusted sneer when he sees Jolt's slack, overstretched valve, the blissful little smile on his face. The crowd cheering.

_Fucking gross little bitches, going along with anything. It doesn't matter what he proposed, they're all eager to do anything._

"You're so awesome! I'm going to be just like you!" Sideswipe gushes, following him when he leaves the bar.

_As if he's doing this to be cool, and not just to see how far he can make mechs degrade themselves just to be with the image of him they have created themselves._

*****

Ironhide stares at the TV without really seeing it, the sound muted. The bottle still clutched in his servo is empty by now. He sits there, unmoving, but inside his processor, there's a maelstrom of noise, inconsequential words uttered by mechs who don't really care about him, just the image of him they have created.

_"You turn my crank like no other mech."_ Purred seductively in his audial, before a glossa slides up his audial horn.

Ironhide screams wordlessly, throwing the bottle at the TV. The screen breaks, and the bottle shatters with a loud crash, but nobody but himself is there to hear it, because nobody cares what he does when the spotlights are off and the doors are closed.

"Why can't I just fucking turn them off?!" He bellows, getting up from the couch just to flip it over. "I've asked them for horrible, degrading, disgusting things, and they all fucking do it! I _hate_ you, hate you _all_!" He screams to all the mechs who are not there to witness his turmoil.

Ironhide grabs the TV and throws it across the room. It dents the wall, tumbling to the floor in a million pieces of broken plastic, and he sinks to the floor, sobbing violently.

_Sometimes it feels like he breaks like that too._ With numb digits, he reaches for the routers on the table.

*****

"I know that you really don't like Decepticons, and especially not me, but that just makes you more enticing." Soundwave rambles.

_Wow, the mech actually has a normal voice. Even if he's using it to say that he's turned on by being hated. Talk about a mess of a mech._ Ironhide takes another swig of his drink, glancing around the room. _Mechs are watching them, anticipating the show._

"I mean, I know you don't really like mecha, and especially not Decepticons, but that just makes me want to love you. I want to be whatever you need."

_Ugh._

*****

"Everyone is taking about how amazing you are in the sack." Prowl whispers.

Ironhide inhales sharply, the straw sliding along the line of Syk all the way to the end, before he sits back abruptly, rubbing his nasal vent.

"What do you want, Prowler?" He growls, audials ringing when the Syk is starting to take effect

"I would really like to suck your spike." The tactician smiles a sultry smile, licking his lips to entice the bigger mech.

Ironhide looks around the bar, the Syk making him feel like he owns the world, a chill trickling down his spine just to turn to heat when it reaches his groin. He snaps his cover open and pressurizes his spike.

_They'll all see when he jams his cock down the Autobot second in command's throat. _He smirks at nobody in particular, challenging them all. _Let's see if someone disapproves._

"What are you waiting for? Do it here, or I won't do you the honor."

Prowl slips down on the floor, kneeling between Ironhide's pedes, and sucks the bobbing spike into his intake. Ironhide splays a servo on the back of Prowl's helm, bucking up to fuck his intake.

_Second in command or not, he's just a disgusting little whore too._

*****

There's too many boosters in his systems, he can't think coherently. _Or maybe it's just that he's the new God, finally ascending to knock Primus from his throne? All this power contained in his frame, it feels like he might explode._

"Please, Sir! I need you to frag me now. Do whatever you want." Sunstreaker whines, writhing on the table.

_He's God, he deals whatever he wants to the begging bitches._

Ironhide grabs a half empty bottle of mid grade still standing on the table and pushes it into Sunstreaker's aft, starting to fuck him ruthlessly with it. The liquid still in the bottle sloshes into the spread out Frontliner, and he mewls and pants.

"That's so fucking gross!" Sideswipe cackles. "Awesome!"

*****

"Ya really are tha mechliest mech I've ever met." Jazz purrs, almost sliding into his lap.

"Mhm." Ironhide turns his helm to look at the little bitch.

_Holy fuck, these boosters pack a punch. It was a long time since he felt this good._

"Yeah, n' I really like feelin' small n' helpless."

"Do you now? Well, then I have a game we can play." _Let's see if Jazz will go along with it. He really hates those things._

"Anythin' for ya, big Bot." Jazz starts to stroke Ironhide's thigh with slim talons, working his way towards Ironhide's interface plate.

"Want to be my little girl tonight? I'll be your _daddy_, and you can be my little kid. Daddy's going to teach you some new things, you completely innocent little sparkling." He growls, slipping a servo between Jazz's legs, the Spy's cover already open. He starts to finger that sopping wet valve.

Jazz freezes up, taken aback. _Finally a reaction! Maybe he has finally hit someone's limits?_

"You really need to tighten your calipers if this is going to be realistic, you loose little whore." Ironhide pushes a digit into Jazz's dry port. "Need to tighten your ass too. No little girl is this fucked out." _As if he'd know, he would never do _that, _but insinuating it is good for the shock value._

Then Jazz's calipers start to spiral down around his digit, tightening.

"Why are ya touchin' me there, daddy? I don't think I have a fever."

It is tempting to push the glitch away, to just ask what the hell he is doing, why he's going along with this crap. _But his spike is really achingly hard, and the whore is going to be tight as all hell now..._

"I think you do. Why don't you hop on daddy's lap? I have a better way to test your temperature."

*****

He's higher than the moon when he's walking home. _The moon. That's Earth. Cybertron doesn't have a moon. Or does it? He can't remember._

The neighborhood he lives in is too nice to have the street walkers hanging around at every corner, trying to entice him. _It's not like anyone else is different though, gross sluts. He doesn't even have to pay for it._

The lax frame of a strung out mech in an alley is definitely not a regular sight. He can't help but get closer to investigate. 

Eight dim optics stare at him listlessly when he squats next to the mech, and it's hard to tell if he's in stasis or not, and his optics just in some sort of standby. Ironhide reaches out to nudge him. He doesn't see the Decepticon badge under all the dirt before his digits brush over it, cleaning some of the grime away from the insignia.

Dreadbot flies up instinctively, his frame trying to online weaponry that he has been stripped of.

_The other side of the spectrum. He's a winner and has more than enough of everything, Dreadbot is a loser and has nothing. Except company. They're both all alone._

"Don't fucking touch me, creep!" Dreadbot snarls.

"I was just making sure you weren't offlining."

"What's it to you anyway?"

"I don't know."

A tremor travels Dreadbot's frame, and suddenly he falls to his servos and knees, dry heaving. _Withdrawal symptoms._ Ironhide knows how that feels, and he sympathizes with the mech.

"Do you need a hit? To take the edge off. I have two, you can have one of them."

Dreadbot tries to puke up something that doesn't exist in his almost empty tank for several more seconds before he glares at the Autobot.

"I'm not fucking you for it, you gross bastard." He sneers.

"I don't expect you to."

"I have standards, you know. Just because I'm a junkie, doesn't mean I'll just hand my frame out to all and sundry, even if everyone thinks so. And you're just big and ugly."

There's so much vehemence in Dreadbot's voice, something Ironhide isn't used to. _It's novel, refreshing._

"You don't look so hot yourself. Let me offer you a deal: we go to my place, you can borrow the washracks, we split a bottle of high grade, do a couple of routers — and I've got the real prescription stuff, not some halfclocked home soldered scrap — to settle our systems, and watch cartoons all night. No strings attached, I've already fucked three times tonight, I don't feel like more. I just don't feel like being alone, and you look like you could use someplace to crash."

Eight optics narrows suspiciously.

"Deal, but don't think I won't stab you if you try some funny business. I'm only sleeping with mech's I choose because I still like them after I've talked to them for a while."

Ironhide grins at the Decepticon.

"I'll hold you to it."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey mister superstar  
"I'll do anyhting for you"  
Hey mister superstar  
"I'm your number one fan"  
Hey mister porno star I, I, I, I want you  
Hey mister sickly star  
"I want to get sick from you"  
Hey mister fallen star  
"Don't you know I worship you?"  
Hey mister big rock star  
"I wanna grow up just like you"  
I know that I can turn you on  
I wish I could just turn you off  
I never wanted this  
Hey mister superhate  
"I just want to love you"  
Hey, hey, hey mister superfuck  
"I wanna go down on you"  
Hey mister supergod  
"Will you answer my prayers?"  
Hey, hey, hey mister superman  
"I want to be your little girl"  
I know that I can turn you on  
I wish I could just turn you off  
I never wanted this  
I know that I can turn you  
I wish I could just turn you  
I never wanted any of this


End file.
